


Façade || Visage

by Ubdqelliot



Series: The Broken Lion [3]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Dawning Feelings, Discovering Astarion's a vampire, Discovering Shadowheart's Diety, Everyone's too exhausted to talk about it anyway, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Owlbears, Pre-Relationship, Raphael happens sometime in the middle but i didnt feel like writing it, The Bite Scene, Things Don't Go As Planned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-21 03:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30015288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ubdqelliot/pseuds/Ubdqelliot
Summary: In spite of a solid plan, the group gets side-tracked in an attempt to be good. They are once again set back a day to heal, though Leoth doesn't quite want to.AKA: Apparently, once gets more perceptive after a near-death experience.
Relationships: Gale (Baldur's Gate)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Broken Lion [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2206383
Kudos: 5





	1. Façade

Things were never as easy as they should be. Of course, it would’ve been easier if not for your foolish need to attempt to be a good person before you perished.

Perhaps it was the unusual path of goblin tracks that caused worry to crease in your brow; the bloodless boar that put you on edge knowing a lusting beast of the night was now just another of the dangers you were forced to deal with; no, it was easier to claim the close proximity to camp and the potential implications of danger.

Whatever the reason, you’d forced your companions into a battle that nearly killed you all, not due to the bloodlust of the goblins, but the flames that crept up your body in response to being an intruder on sacred ground. Despite your intentions, the cavern decided your existence was a cardinal sin, brining you to the brink of death for daring to impose yourself as a hero.

It almost felt poetic justice when your vision blurred with burning, your body collapsing due to exhaustion, your hand previously outstretched with a final few words of vitality directed towards the victim. Some selfish part of you told you they should’ve been reserved for yourself, but no, if you were to die, a hero you would fall.

So you did. Weightless, as you fell down the cliff before colliding numbly with the mud. It was strange how heat had become your worst friend these past few days, when it used to be such a close ally.

Your consciousness waned; you were there enough to _be_ , yet not enough to process anything. You knew if you slipped into a slumber there was a good chance you wouldn’t arise, yet that was never a fear of yours. So _why_ did you so desperately cling to the fabric of the present tethering you to life?

A pull brought you further into the _now_ , hands on either side of your shoulders as a comfortable warmth of fresh air filled your lungs. Your eyes flickered open, breaths less labored as your mind caught up with the experience. Your fellow half-elf had already risen back to her feet, a visible hitch her own breath as her obsidian irises flickered around. “We should be leaving now!” A familiar lilted voice called out- Astarion stood at the top of the cliff, hiding behind the natural pillar from two of the glowing druidic statues with an unusual artifact in his hands.

Your cleric glanced back down to you, a wave of uncertainty and frustration crossing her face. With a nod so subtle you barely knew you had done it, she took off, attempting her best to climb back up the cliff rather than further expose herself to the statues. The elf man leaned forward, offering a hand to her to help. A flash of worry crossed your wizard’s features- you could see it from the crevice he was hidden in, waiting to sprint until the statues fired once more. _I’ve got this_ , you insisted, forcing yourself to move in spite the pain. You didn’t have the arcane energy to heal once more in an attempt to withstand the two statues waiting to fire upon you. No, you needed something else.

Rolling over in the thick mud, eyebrows furrowed, you concentrated on the feral fear within your chest, allowing yourself to focus on the need to _protect_ and _lead_ your party- your _pack_. Your body contorted with familiar discomfort, your face growing longer and your torso larger. Fur had barely covered your skin with thick hide before the traps reset, leaving you to watch as two bolts of flame raced towards your features.

You flinched, barely withstanding the hit as your lupine form whimpered with pain. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle another- the only reason you were still standing being the mud you were caked in had dampened the flames, not allowing them to crawl across your pelt. Your eyes darted behind you, watching your companions race together as far as they could in the handful of seconds before it struck again.

Gale had managed to preserve enough energy to allow himself an extra distance with a spell, while Astarion was naturally swift. While he was slightly encumbered helping Shadowheart, you knew they were likely going to just escape. It was just you, and you couldn’t let the gift your cleric gave you with her last spell go to waste.

You dug your hind paws into the mud, searching for the hard ground beneath as your gaze focused on the cliff above. Your best chance was to leap high enough and hide at the sweet spot away from all three traps, but only if you could get there and crouch. It was a stretch, but you had to _try_.

You’d never felt stronger than when you leapt into the air towards the cliff, pulling yourself up with only the weight you could grip the edge with. You heard the _click_ as the bolts of flame reset within the stone creatures, and you just _barely_ managed to worm your way as the flames seared the edges of your tail. _One._ Another bolt of flame struck the other side of the pillar. _Two_. A third tickled the back of your hips, rolling albeit painfully off. _Three._

Without another second to waste, you turned tail and _sprinted_ towards the entrance you came through, your arcane ally waiting at the final ledge to ensure your safety. He helped pull your large canine form up and in return you nuzzled him forward, only taking a moment to breathe when your collapsed into the grass outside, the blades tickling the back of your _bare_ neck.

Thank gods you were still alive.

Of course, given the intense battle and the extensive injuries everyone had sustained, your plans to make it to the swamp were effectively up on hold. You _insisted_ on at least making it to the river nearby so you could hide under the bridge, not wanting yet to admit defeat. After an hour of rest- and the two more magically attuned taking a breather to regain some expended energy- they agreed, though they weren’t pleased when you ended up encountering a trio of travelers.

You wanted to try to help save the dying man, yet he let go too soon so your attempts went wasted. However, from the experience, you learned a lot more information as to the “Absolute” puzzle you’d been thinking on. Apparently, the cult wasn’t just goblins, or even a handful of drow. It expanded to humans and less traditionally evil-aligned humanoids as well, as seen by the two novices. You were thankful their faith was stronger than any distrust they had for a stranger. After a few questions, you sent them on their way, insisting they _survive_ rather than seek revenge on the owlbear that killed their brother.

It sparked a need in you to ensure the safety of the owlbear, for nothing if not the fact alone you were a druid and it was your _job_. Shadowheart was growing increasingly frustrated with you, having already been worn down to the point she had no magical reserved left, let alone the burns that skill crawled up her side. Astarion argued he didn’t want to cross the river and risk getting wet- though, you weren’t fool enough to miss the wince in his form at the idea. It felt an issue that was better resolved later.

So in spite your serious injuries and your blatant concussion, you and Gale made your way, following the tracks you saw to a cave on the other side. You didn’t care you were wasting one of your last spells of the day, you _needed_ to talk with the beast; you decided such as you muttered the now-familiar incantation of _speak with animals_. His eyebrow raised in response, no doubt curious, but your response was a simple gesture that ultimately mean “talk”.

The stench was _awful_. Being an urban coast druid, you’d imagine you would have smelled worse, and perhaps you have, but in the moment, it took al your focus to ignore the disgust rising in your stomach. You barely took a step into the room with the nests, a skeleton across the room draped in druidic armor next to a straw bed holding an egg. She- the mother- seemed to almost feel the gaze herself, snorting with irritation and approaching. “I don’t mean you harm, mother,” you gently told the bear, your hands visible at all points as you stared at her. You felt the incantation on your tongue, knowing it was working its… well, magic.

“Leave. I ought to rip you to shreds, _softmeat_. You’d make a great feast for my youngling.” She almost _spat_ the words in response, the edges of her beak curling in a snarl. You chose not to answer, glancing over her features for injury: you knew the dead man held only half the spear, and you suspected the rest of it was in here. After a few seconds of searching, you saw it: her head was tilted to hide it from you, but the swelling of her right eye told you all you need to know.

“I do not intend to trifle with you, mother. I saw the remains of those who dared hurt you and worried for your health. I’m merely a hand of nature, dearest.” You could tell she didn’t trust your flowery words, her haunches still raised defensively.

“I am _fine_.” She hissed. “I have killed stronger with worse. Leave us be. We do not seek your assistance.” You weren’t a fool. She was being strong for her younglings; she didn’t want the risk of harm, thus leaving her infant and egg alone to the wilds.

“Mother,” you spoke more sternly, head tilting as you took a slow step forward. “You will grow ill if it remains. It may be but a splinter to you, but I cannot be sure of what those _young-brained_ _wall-dwellers_ had on their weaponry. Being strong needn’t be stubborn, dearest. Allow me to inspect your eye, if it is untainted I will do what I can to heal the damage to your sight and leave.”

“And if they put their _filth_ on it?” She hissed, visibly wary of your intent.

“I will instead do what I can to remove it from your body. If it is the case, I’m sadly uncertain as to what I can do for your eye.” Her uninjured eye flickered back and forth, in visible thought. You could feel the burn on the back of your head of your companion’s eyes, but you didn’t turn. If you did, she might have perceived it as a threat.

An uneasy silence filled the air as the owlbear matron’s gaze wavered from you to your child, staring up at her with confusion. She released a hefty breath of air that nearly shook you from your feet. “Fine. Do what you must. The other _softmeat_ must leave. If you make one wrong move, I will not hesitate to tear you apart and feed you to my young.”

“I would expect nothing else,” you responded swiftly. Your eyes slowly drifted towards the side your companion were, though you watched the mother carefully, seeking her approval. You stared intently at your brown-haired ally, who was studying you with a similar confusion and respect. Words flickered through your brain as you were uncertain if the mother would hear your words to him, and concerned that if you weren’t careful, she might think this an ambush. Instead, you chose to be simple. “Leave,” you told your ally.

He seemed briefly concerned, eyes lingering on you a moment. You could almost feel the tickle of your tadpole, his voice in your head. _Are you sure?_ Whether or not you imagined it, you nodded, prompting him to turn back.

It took another few moments for the mother to feel safe, waiting until the footsteps entirely faded in the distance before even thinking of allowing you forward. To your fortune, or perhaps hers, the fool hadn’t poisoned his blade before attacking, effectively making the spearhead nothing more than a splinter to her. You still held concern as to how she would heal with such a foreign object embedded in a sensitive organ, even going so far as to make to suggest removal. “Mother, I believe I can safely remove the weapon. It may be a bit painful, but healing would be more effective if I do so.” She snarled from beside you, though you decided to press the matter, fearful of an attack of revenge from the humans. “I don’t think I need to tell you a case should be made in favor of not appearing weak; you are more likely to be left alone if they don’t see your blood already spilt.” The growl continued, but you could sense deep thought.

“Go ahead. Attempt to wound me further and your heart will not take another beat.” At this point, the threats really seemed unnecessary, but you thought nothing of it.

You made sure to announce before you began your procedure, deciding to reserve your higher-potential spell for later based on the amount of damage you could see. There was thankfully minimal damage to the eyeball itself, save for a scratch that was no doubt insanely painful. Most of the blood and swelling was instead from the socket and her nictating membrane. You couldn’t imagine the pain she must be in. The spearhead slipped out without much effort upon dabbing the area with a cold cloth, reducing the swelling as best you could. She pulled away for a moment as it dropped to the floor, trying desperately to blink with the intrusion gone. You could almost _smell_ the fear leaving her body when she found herself unable to do so properly. “I’ve yet to heal, mother. Allow me to whisper an incantation and I will leave, your pain will be lesser.”

Her brief rage subsided, yet she didn’t draw closer. You nodded in understanding, now knowing you would need to burn the higher spell to have a better healing effect from a distance. The thread of magic flickered through the air, near-invisible, until it arrived at the mother and wove itself through her wound, pulling parts of her eye together and fusing parts of her nictating membrane together.

The both of you let out a sigh as she visibly eased a moment, no longer having to pretend to be without pain. A moment later, though, she stood up strong once more, eyes narrowed. “Your help is not left without gratitude. Still, you must leave, _softmeat_.” The word didn’t seem as much an insult this time, likely a testament to her appreciation. “Some _softmeat_ before us brought some strange items to the den, near the water. Rid us of it.” You didn’t question the gesture, instead nodding as you stepped backward. “Shall we _never_ cross paths again, _nature-walker_.”

A smile most definitely curled up your lips.

As it turned out, what the _softmeat_ left behind was an entire shrine to Selûne, magically locked chest of offerings, prayer, and all. It didn’t take you much to realize what was necessary, even by yourself. After releasing the chest of its lock, you opted to carry the chest and other scattered items back, rather than all individually. Perhaps it was stupid, especially due to the climb out of the cave, but you stuck to it. Gale’s eyes lit up as you arrived at the bank of the river, clearly not expecting treasure from the encounter.

“I was sure you were helping an owlbear, not a dragon,” he teased, resulting in you rolling your eyes with a smile as the two of you began wading through the ankle-high running water back to your encampment.

“She was very kind,” you remarked in jest, hoping your sarcastic gesture told the rest of that story. “She found herself annoyed by some items left near the water in her cave, and politely requested I rid her of her problem.” He nodded in response, however pleased by the unexpected return as he took a few longer steps to spare his long robes the discomfort of moisture.

“I was in favor of helping a poor mother in need, though it isn’t an unwelcome gift.” He held a hand to you as he arrived upon the bank, assisting you in the albeit steep incline with the treasure.

“Especially not with the spell scroll I found,” you piped up playfully, resulting in an exaggerated noise of joy- one that might’ve easily been confused with sexual pleasure instead.

“Must you torment me so? Begone you wicked incubus!” His words drew a chuckle from your lips, a pure calm filling your body you hadn’t felt in a long time. Upon recognizing such, you decided to hold the feeling close, focusing with a smile on your face.

Unfortunately, doing so meant you missed whatever mocking comment Astarion made. You didn’t, however, miss the curious glance of your cleric quickly transform into one of _disgust_. “What the hells have you brought to camp?” She spat, defensive in such a manner that seemed disproportionate to the crime. _Everyone_ was confused about it.

“Treasure?” Came your baffled, unhelpful response.

“Put that damned thing back where you found it!” She stormed over to you, clearly intending to rip it from your hands on way or another until she reached you, clenching her fists as if something held her back.

“It’s goodies, Shadowheart. I don’t know what’s got your undergarments a mess,” the elf responded, further infuriating her (as intended, by the smirk on his lips immediately after). Unlike the blatantly antagonistic man, your eyes furrowed, trying to read what you could of her without probing her mind.

“ _Please_ ,” she hissed. “It’s clearly offerings to Selûne, it could be _cursed_ for all we know. It’s not worth the risk, and you were _foolish_ for bringing it here.” She seemed visibly uncomfortable, her reaction to one of the traditionally good goddesses seemed one of malice uncharacteristic of a _normal_ person. Your mind raced, glancing from her face to her armor and circlet before realization struck your features. Her eyebrows furrowed further seeing recognition in your reaction. “Don’t you dare start speculating, now is _not_ the time.”

“You’re a cleric of Shar.” It was a simple statement, one said without nuance that might give an opinion one way or the other. It explained quite a lot: her dark features, the pitch circles adorning her gear, hells, even her _name_ seemed to direct towards one of the two goddesses, and seeing as she bore such a hatred of the mistress of the moon…

“So _what_?” Her words, however, were a threat, much like the owlbear mother from the cave. She was _afraid_ , so she sharpened her tongue in response. “Does it _matter_? Those relics are dangerous! We cannot risk a deity’s wrath.” Though it sounded as if she meant the sister of the moon, there was not a doubt in your mind that she felt afraid that even touching such an object would bring her matron’s fury upon her.

A part of you wanted to be selfish, to keep the objects in spite of how important it was to your companion. You felt like either choice would betray someone: Gale by throwing the precious spell scroll away, or Shadowheart by essentially forcing her to participate in second-hand sacrilege.

Still, one seemed much more important.

You attempted to toss the heavy chest back into the river, discarding it in it’s entirety. Of course, given you were weak, it didn’t exactly go far, instead getting lodged against one of the supports for the bridge overhead. You winced, disappointed your gesture didn’t quite work as planned, but it seemed the cleric didn’t mind. She seemed to move as if intending to make some sort of contact with you in joy, yet quickly pulled herself back, returning to her reserved and stoic stature.

“Thank you,” came her quick, genuine response. A pause. Astarion seemed to just _inhale_ before she cut him off. “We should move further down the bank.” With that command, she turned around, walking away and leaving the rest of you to catch up.


	2. Visage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, night has arrived. With it, a few important realizations.
> 
> AKA: What's another near-death experience to the pile?

Bedding down early didn’t feel easy but given how much strain they’d put themselves through before dinnertime, it was a necessary evil. Of course, Lae’zel was furious; she had half a mind to leave and find the creche on her own.

You, on the other hand, having nothing else you decided you were going to push your body through, were exhausted. Adrenaline, or perhaps more accurately _spite_ , had kept you going the additional hour or two beyond your near-death experience. The crash that came when you finally allowed yourself to lie on your bedroll… you didn’t know how you even _breathed_ before collapsing. You were thoroughly spent, magic, mind, and body.

Shadowheart insisted on finally treating the burns that licked their way up your half-exposed torso and arms; in hindsight, you had no idea why the owlbear mother didn’t see you weak and end you there. You told her which herbs would make for a sufficient poultice to last the night, though she quickly grew frustrated trying to find the necessary ferns and gave up. Ultimately it didn’t matter to you, as you weren’t unfamiliar with pain, emotional or physical, but it was a slight loss of comfort that you momentarily grieved.

“Are you not going to comment on my choice of goddess?” The cleric piped up as she worked on your side. Her question was understandable, though to you it felt ridiculous.

“If you’re looking for an argument, you’ve come to the wrong person.” Her eyebrows raised in slight confusion, though she tried not to let it show much in her features. “I couldn’t care less what deity you or anyone else worshipped. As long as you prove to be as loyal to me as I’ve tried to be for you- _and_ so long you don’t outright slaughter people- there’s no difference between you and anyone else.” You flinched, both from pain and the way your words sounded. “Rather, your figure of worship isn’t the reason I choose to place faith and loyalty in you. You’re very much significant to me, and I appreciate your companionship, however reluctant. I respect what you do for us, regardless the reason. Whether you serve Silvanus, Shar, or even _Lolth_ for whatever godsforsaken reason, I couldn’t care less so long you prove my ally.”

A pause as she continued to work, tearing more bandage from her pack, seeming to process your words. “You’re… unusually pragmatic.” That earned you a chuckle. “Not many would do the same. I almost feared I would have to continue my mission alone.” You scoffed, causing her grip to momentarily falter and a surge of pain to shoot up your body. “Remain still. The more you squirm, the more you suffer.” More silence.

“Perhaps its pragmatism. Perhaps it’s sentimentality. Who’s to say?”

Your other companions seemed more distant, leaving you to rest- unfortunately. Still, you spied Gale off in his own corner of your temporary camp, a small light in the shape of a figure in the palm of his hand. You couldn’t see what the figure was, only that it resembled a feminine head.

A small part of you felt… playful. Perhaps it was the influence of the trickster cleric, but you wanted _desperately_ to use the twinge of arcane magic flowing through your veins to prank the unsuspecting man. After all, you’d done it before, it didn’t expend _that_ much effort…

Whispering under your breath the all-too familiar incantation from your youth, you watched as dull balls of blue light apparated behind the man. They slowly shifted into a vague humanoid form before stepping to the side, into the edge of the wizard’s field of vision. For a moment, the man panicked, the illusion in his hand dispersing quickly with probable embarrassment. In spite the distance, you could still hear his startled yelp, which made it _impossible_ to keep back your amused chuckle.

Upon realizing what he was seeing- and hearing- his eyebrows furrowed, his arms folding across his chest as he glanced back at you. You swear you heard him _huff_ in frustration, yet you weren’t sure. You preferred to believe the former.

* * *

Perhaps it was your general restlessness, your recent fiendish visitor, or just your nerves trying to settle after everything that happened. Whatever the reason, you found yourself unable to rest, instead lying in your bedroll desperately hoping to fall asleep. Though, that night, your insomnia was some form of blessing in disguise.

You felt on edge, your barely-pointed ears twitching with anticipation. You felt the odd sensation of being _hunted_ , though you couldn’t tell if that was lingering paranoia from your strange visitor or the instincts of your animal forms. You _hated_ this feeling, of being weak, of being _prey_.

You rolled over, facing towards the group again in hopes of maybe easing your anxieties. However, what you saw did the opposite- a paler figure silhouetted by the shadow of night looming over you. In a panic, you instinctively clutched your staff by your bed and swung, not even bothering to mutter the cantrip. The figure, in a panic, reeled away, staring at you with hands in the air in surrender. Your eyes focused to the darkness and you saw your elven ally, incisors elongated into fangs. _Fuck._ You should’ve known, you should’ve seen it, _gods_ why were you so stupi-

“I-It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He gasped, panic laced in his words. You sat up in your bed, still anxiously clutching the wood of your staff to you defensively. “I just-“ His eyes darted around, almost as if searching for answers.

“Really? Because it _looks_ like you were going to attack me in my sleep and drain me of my blood,” you spat, though quiet enough not to wake your distant allies. “Though I guess if it’s _not_ that, then you were trying to violate me in my sleep, and I very much _didn’t_ peg you for that kind a man, Astarion-“

“No! I wasn’t- I wasn’t going to _rape_ you, I-“ His fear felt _delicious_. The thought felt disgusting to you, instead you brushed it off as if it were some lingering influence from the parasite in your skull. “I just needed blood.” A pause as you narrowed your eyes at him, leaning forward to study his features. “I-I’m growing weak. With the whole _Raphael_ thing, I was desperate. I didn’t intend to hurt you, I just…”

“That boar. Yours, I presume?” You cut him off, needing answers more than excuses. He seemed so pathetic, almost _pleading_ , a look that urged you to feel sympathy for the man- gods did you want to.

“I- yes. I was hoping you were more… dense. I- I only drink animal blood. I don’t feed off people, and I’ve never killed anyone for food,” he promised, gazing at you as if you were his last hope. After all, you were. Your long glare seemed to unnerve him, as he winced with realization you were a _druid_ , of all people in theory you wouldn’t take well to animals being fed on by a _beast_ \- no, a _monstrocity_ such as himself. “I- I’m sorry, I suppose, for all the animals. But if I just had a taste-”

Cutting him off, you hummed with consideration, perhaps even amusement. “I fear not for the beasts you feed on. They understand their part in the cycle, understand an untimely end will most likely come to them at the hands of a person, if not another predator. I’m not worried about the _animals_ , Astarion. I’m worried about _us_.” He flinched as you spoke the last sentences, regret evident on his face. A part of you wanted to believe him, to believe his intentions and his words. But you had not asked him _what_ he ate, or who. That information he offered, and you didn’t trust.

You felt a tingle in the back of your head as you stared at him, the tadpole in your head squirming with anticipation. Yes, perhaps you could make the necessary sacrifice. Normally you’d stray against reading your companions minds, but right now, he was a threat, not an ally.

With that confirmation, you felt your mind lurch into his.

A bloodied rat was clutched in your stark-white hands, the edges black with decay. The stench itself made you want to throw up, but you knew you would starve if you didn’t accept this… _gift_. Your fangs sank inside, a disgusting squelch of its organs hitting your ears. A delicious meal, as it was the only one your master ever gave you. You were a pet, if that, and all you got were _scraps_ , if not _trash_ itself.

Your mind released, landing back in your own as your blood boiled with the secret hidden behind your ally- _his_ words. “You didn’t _choose_ to only devour animals. It was all you were _fed_ ,” you hissed, betrayed by the fact he dared deceive you so. He cowered, flinching at your every word before nodding silently.

Seeing him like that… you realized your anger was unfair. He was a desperate monster, only seeking whatever he could to tide him over. Whether he intended to truly hurt you or not, there was the risk of him killing you had he gone through with it, an innate hunger that had never before been sated. Still… he was pathetic. Scared. You didn’t want to be like whatever creature tortured him, you didn’t want to be _why_ he was afraid when all he’d done was be victim to desire.

You could tame him, you realized. Friend or not, he was above all else an ally. A _powerful_ one, if properly fed. He did seem weak…

You shook the thought from your head, not wanting to be the deceitful, manipulative monster he could be. There was a chance here to be sympathetic, to help a weak and broken man. Your heart still ached with the realization of what you saw, what you _felt_ when you were in his mind. You weren’t a puppetmaster, he was your _friend_. Besides…

So what if you died if he grew strong?

“Fine.” His red eyes darted to you, confused after the long silence. “You can have your taste, so long as you promise me something.” His attention latched to you like a liferaft. “So long you have my blood flowing through you, you _protect_ this group. I don’t want you to drink and then run off, never to be seen again.” His expression grew gentle, though excited at your promise. He nodded furiously, kneeling on the ground next to you as he moved to clutch your hand in his in thanks.

You pulled away. You didn’t like the idea of being worshipped, even in this moment. It felt _wrong_ for Astarion to be in such a position. He recognized his position shortly after you did, rising off the ground a bit to seem taller. “I- yes, Leoth, I promise. It-“ He cleared his throat, likely to regain composure after his long moment of weakness. “It will be done, however much I loathe these people.”

“Am I included?” You teased, turning your head to give him a playful wink. Of course, now was not the time to play such games, but at this point, you’d accept anything to return the mood to something more tasteful.

“Darling, don’t you dare underestimate yourself,” he returned, a familiar sly grin on his face. “After all, I came to _you_ , not one of those degenerates.” A small chuckle left your throat, a nervous smile on your features. His eyes flickered from your face to your exposed neck, a sigh falling from your lips as you realized what must come next. “It might be better if you were laying down,” he suggested, though his expression showed uncertainty.

“I’d rather sit up,” you insisted, putting your staff to the side as you turned around, back facing him. As he drew closer, you tilted your head to one side, almost as if seducing him to do what you chose. You almost didn’t hear him approach, though you _felt_ the warm breath across your sensitive skin as he spoke.

“Alrighty then. Eager, are we?” You couldn’t answer, your face flushing with excitement and embarrassment. Now was _not_ the time to get aroused, though the way your body ignited like a furnace at such a simple touch… it reminded you exactly how long it had been since you had another man’s touch. _No, this is not the time. We can deal with this later, just let him drink._

The icy pain that shot through your body, though, was significantly _less_ arousing- perhaps it was the surprise, or even the surprising _cold_ of his body- he wasn’t ice cold like the stories described, nor the dull lack of warmth of a corpse. He _held_ warmth, as in some way he was still alive and consuming energy. Yet, being undead, many of his internal functions weren’t alive and active, thus much less energy- and _warmth_ \- left him. A breath left your lips as you leaned into him, immediately feeling weaker as you felt his mouth sucking the very life from your body. It was a very confusing mix of feelings: his cold skin, his warm breath, the sensation of being _sucked_ like a hickey, the ever-growing gentle cold that crept up your body from your extremities.

A part of you nearly forgot there was a risk of death.

His hands had begun resting lightly on your shoulder, tightening when he’d lurched forward to bite. A small moan rumbled in his throat, though you needed to remind yourself it was _just_ your blood. As he got more and more, and _craved_ more and more, his hands drifted, finding ways to grip you and get _more_. His arms tucked beneath yours, resting on your chest.

The intimacy of it wasn’t lost on you, yet as the numbing feeling crawled up your body, you craved the peace your muddled mind felt at the edges of your vision. Your instincts were screaming at you that you were close to death, that you needed to stop him or else you might die. A part of you _laughed_ at the fear. _Death_ , that thing you’ve so craved for well over a week, since long before this whole ordeal started, and yet it was so tantalizingly close, right _here_ , in your companion’s arms.

You let out a breath. A sigh of resignation, releasing all your worry and fears that had been crammed inside. Or, perhaps, a moment to steel yourself against the demons in your head. “Astarion, stop.” Your words were strong, yet your voice was weak. It was all you could manage, being on your deathbed. You’ll never understand what compelled you to fight back, to stay, only that your chance of freedom was so _close_ and you let it go.

The vampire winced, pulling back as he regained his breath, eyes flickering over your pale, trembling form. The moment he left, you hadn’t the strength to hold yourself up, collapsing back into your bedroll with panting breaths. You felt so _helpless_ , unable to control your own body. Yet, glancing up at the elf, grappling with the realization of what had happened, a light smile on his face, you felt sure in your decision- not to stay alive, but to let him feed. His pale features, while you couldn’t determine their color in the darkness, seemed fuller, his movements swifter as he kneeled beside you, a slight look of horror on his face.

“Leoth, I- I didn’t mean-“ His voice trembled with fear at your state.

“Hush.” You cut him off, a slight smile on his face. “It’s alright. Just… let me rest.” A trembling breath escaped your lips as you rolled onto your back, hoping the wound on your neck had stopped bleeding by now.

“No, you don’t need to rest. Stay awake, alright?” His hand went behind your head, the other pulling you closer to his body with desperation. “The last thing you need right now is sleep.” A knowing, yet reluctant sigh escaped your lips.

“Was it alright?” Your eyes landed on his as you continued to try and breathe. “Did- do you need more?” He winced, glancing at your state.

“No, no, what you gave was enough. It’s a gift, you know,” he insisted, pulling you closer. “I’m not-“ He sounded almost exasperated with you. “You’ve given me enough. Now I need to fulfill my part of the promise.” He licked his fangs, wiped the blood from his lips.

“Cut me.” Your words surprised him. “Cut my neck between the marks. Make it seem more like… a blade than a vampire.” He realized what you were trying to do, yet shook his head. “They’ll… they’ll lynch you for this, with me like this. They won’t listen to you, maybe not me with me…” You took a breath, reaching your hand up in an attempt to grasp his shirt to stay up. “They’ll hold you responsible. We can’t withstand more tension.” You held your gaze to him, pleading. He still shook his head, taking in a breath.

“I don’t care, I’m not letting you bleed out because of me,” he hissed. “You gave me a gift, I’m not going to let it go to waste.” A hand left your side for a moment, the shifting of your weight a weird feeling in your groggy state. _Gods_ , everything felt so cold. “Drink.” It took a second, perhaps longer, to recognize what he was holding out to you. A healing potion. “It’s not going to be enough, but it should stabilize you for now. We can get Shadowheart’s help when you can stand on your own.” You nodded, trying to raise your hand to take the bottle from his hands. He sighed, opening it himself and raising it to your lips.

You could feel your body grow warmer, just a bit. The magic in the potion was doing what it could to replenish and replace the missing amounts of blood in your body, but there was only so much it could do. Still, the amount it did prevented any early decay or oxygen loss. It didn’t do much, in reality, but it was no doubt enough to save your life. A sigh left your lips, just a small amount stronger than before yet held a strength that you knew would be enough.

“Why… why didn’t you stop me sooner?” He asked after a long pause, clutching you to keep your weight on him so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. “I… I just asked for a taste, you… you gave me more. Why?”

You shook your head with a small laugh. “It…” After a moment to collect your thoughts, you sighed. “It was many things. The simplest I feel if you don’t know, you should.” You turned to look at him. “Do you know where I was when the mindflayers took me?”

“Of course not, why would I-“

“I was mid-air.” A pause as confusion grew.

“Wh-“

“I’d _jumped_ ,” you furthered. His body grew still with the realization. “So it really wasn’t why I didn’t stop you, it was rather why I _did_. I stopped you because I knew that they need me, that _you_ need me. They’d lynch you if I died, and even if they brought me back, there would be nothing I could do that could convince them you were still an ally. If you’re to fulfill your promise to me, I needed to stay _alive_.” The last word seemed almost like a curse from your lips.

“I suppose that’s two gifts you’ve given me, then.” His words weren’t exactly meant for you, they were barely a whisper under his breath. “Come. We need to get you to Shadowheart, lest you abandon me to the mob.” Even with the harshness and selfishness of the statement, you knew there was a gentleness behind them, a _fear_. This man… he was much more complex than you’d initially took him for. There was a trauma hidden underneath, and you _desperately_ wanted to know.

One step at a time, you warned yourself as the newly strengthened vampire rose to his feet with you in his arms. First, get through this _insane_ night.


End file.
